Story of My Life

So I wake up Saturday morning still thinking I may be pregnant (although still only at day 25) and feeling guilty about the several glasses of wine I had the night before.

But not too guilty... the first few months we started trying I would avoid things you shouldn't eat/drink while pregnant (namely alcohol, sushi) the week or so before my lovely period (aka reminder of my infertility) came.  You know, because I was hoping I was pregnant and didn't want to damage my morula.  Then months passed, I decided those little cells could stand some beer or wine if I didn't yet know of their existence and I just couldn't handle purposely avoiding alcohol each month only to find out I wasn't pregnant... again.

This probably makes me sound like an alcoholic. 

I am not an alcoholic but I do enjoy a glass or wine or 2 or 3 on the weekends.  I have a busy, stressful life/career and a glass of wine does the body good.

So back to my guilt... we were planning on going out again Saturday night to meet friends at a Mexican place.  Which meant margaritas of course.  So I convinced myself I'll just take a pregnancy test to make myself feel better about having a jumbo margarita.

I went upstairs to get ready for dinner with pregnancy test in hand.  I didn't tell my husband I was taking it because he would think I'm crazy.  And I've gotten much better about not taking tests unless I'm actually late but this is my first month of Clomid and maybe I've been feeling just a little bit hopeful.

I take the test and muddle around the bathroom waiting the 3 minutes to read it.

Negative.

Jumbo margarita is mine.

But now I have to think about how the first month of Clomid likely failed while at dinner on Saturday night.  Fabulous planning on my part.

But it gets better.

I go back downstairs and my husband says "Your phone has been blowing up."  I look at my phone and start seeing "Congrats!" "I'm so happy for you guys!" text messages from multiple of my high school friends and scroll up through the twenty texts to find out which of my friends is pregnant this time.

Of course... the friend who got married 6 months after me.  Who just bought a house.  Who probably stopped birth control when they bought their house 3 months ago and got pregnant that month. 

Now I don't know any of these things.  And I am a bitch and a terrible friend.

But I know one thing- they haven't been trying for 18 months.

Why do they get to be pregnant and we don't?

Somewhere in me I swear I am happy for them but when I first read those words I am mostly sorry for myself and angry.

I just feel like I have a pretty wonderful life now but I have been dealt more than my fair share of hardships in the past.  Why does infertility have to be one of them?

So I tried unsuccessfully to drown my sorrows in my jumbo margarita and then decided something.  I really need to make some new girl friends- ones without children. 

I love my friends and am so blessed to have them but my two best girl friends in town have a 2 month old and a 3 year old.  And most of the couples we hang out with frequently have multiple children. Sometimes lately, I just need to escape that.  To not have to look at them and think of what I can't have.  I need some more girl friends to drink too many jumbo margaritas with and eat sushi and go out dancing and forget about babies and broken uteri.